


Shaving

by Comedia



Category: The Hobbit (2012)
Genre: Bilbo has a beard fixation, M/M, it's not like you see a lot of beards in the shire, so don't judge him you would stare too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 05:29:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/683377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Comedia/pseuds/Comedia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Master Baggins will stare at members of the company when he thinks no one is watching, of course, he has failed to notice that a certain dwarven prince is always watching.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shaving

 

There is something strange about the halfling. Thorin has lived long enough to know when something is being kept from him, and Master Baggins shows all the signs. It is in the way that he fidgets, and in the way he will stare at members of the company for much too long. It is in his startled laugh and in his searching eyes.

And so Thorin might find himself observing the halfling on more than one occasion. Master Baggins is a burglar after all – at least according to Gandalf – and burglars should not be trusted easily. Thorin will sit next to Dwalin at night, pipe between parted lips and questions heavy on his mind. Bilbo does not want to make a fuss; he will eat in silence unless he is bothered by someone, and despite hobbits being well-known for their love of food he will never ask for a second serving. As the nights pass Thorin has almost convinced himself that he is being overly paranoid; it is clear that the halfling has no sinister plans.

Yet, there is the way Bilbo will look at the dwarves when he thinks no one is watching, an expression both of wonder and hesitation. Some nights he stares like a curious child more than anything, and Thorin is not sure how he is supposed to deal with the situation.

The shift is sudden, but Thorin cannot bring himself to be surprised. His nephews have always been talkative and trusting – and annoyingly curious – so when they start interrogating Bilbo at dinner one night he sighs. It was never a question of if Kíli and Fíli would befriend the halfling; it was a question of when.

Bilbo seems happy enough, huddled protectively around his bowl of soup and smiling at the brothers from time to time. In the end it is nothing to fret about… or at least this is what Thorin thinks until it becomes something frequent.

His nephews spend every night by the halfling’s side, their conversation loud with laughter and yelps throughout the meal. When Thorin asks Dwalin if they are pulling each-other’s hair more than usual he gets nothing but a grumble in response, and it – understandably – does not help with his suspicions at all.

Yes, there is something strange about the halfling, but more so; his interactions with Kíli. More often than not Thorin will notice them sitting close together, talking softly and going quiet whenever they think someone is close enough to overhear them.

He has never seen Kíli attempting to hide something from his brother before, and so Thorin is surprised to see how they will sometimes quiet down even when Fíli is around.

There are many things in the past that he cannot let go of. There is loss and pain, but more than anything there is the regret of not doing enough; of being too flippant and not acting on his instincts. Thorin likes to think that he has learned a lot since then, and if nothing else, he trusts in himself these days.

Asking Dwalin to lead them the next day is much easier than he expected. There is a questioning glance from Balin, but Thorin chooses to ignore it. He just wishes to make sure that his nephews are safe and that the halfling is trustworthy. That is all.

Fíli has been sent ahead to scout the terrain, and so Thorin finds Kíli and Bilbo alone in deep conversation. They are walking at a steady pace, but keeping some distance between themselves and the rest of the company. They walk close together, leaning in just a little while talking in hushed voices. 

"... Fíli got his early, he has been able to braid for years! Sometimes he will let me, but it is not the same as having my own to do with as I please. He always has these ideas... never allows me to be creative."

Bilbo offers a sympathetic nod at that, while Kíli continues complaining about his brother. Eventually he seems to run out of words to properly explain his frustration, and the halfling clears his throat.

"And what about your Uncle?"

Kíli looks around as if he is planning an assassination rather than talking about braiding Fíli's hair, but he is obviously not paying attention, otherwise he would notice Thorin a few steps ahead of them.

"He keeps it short out of respect", Kíli then says, his voice low and solemn. "Many were badly burned when the dragon hit, and my Uncle saw how his brethren not only bore injuries but had had their beards taken from them as well."

Bilbo murmurs in an understanding manner while gently patting Kíli's shoulder. Thorin would be annoyed with that - the halfling acting as if he can relate to such an unspeakable loss - but he cannot bring himself to. There is something so sincere about the gesture that he remains quiet.

Kíli sighs and runs a hand through his tangled hair. "And maybe I would do the same, if I actually had a beard to speak of, but I do not. I guess my wish is that I had the choice."

At that Bilbo nods sympathetically, as if he has felt the same way. “Once it happens, you will look very majestic.”

Kíli obviously misses the humor in Bilbo’s voice, and takes the comment as a straightforward compliment. He pats Bilbo hard enough on the back to make the halfling stumble, and Thorin would snort if doing so would not reveal his eavesdropping.

Instead of interrupting their conversation he remains silent during the rest of the day, his relief so great he almost feels like laughing. Things such as laughter and smiles have been far in between for a long time, and he has found that there is nothing that will get under his skin like his nephews… but to realize that the halfling, despite everything, has somehow managed to get him to react this way as well – without even attempting to do so - is an unexpected realization.

Dwalin does not ask about his findings at dinner, but he does raise an eyebrow. Thorin tilts his head slightly in response, and that is all the conversation they need on the subject. The next day he leads the company without hesitation, and if he keeps an eye out for Bilbo it is simply for the halfling’s own good. Despite his extraordinary bravery it is clear that hobbits are not used to these kinds of treks, and Bilbo has managed to fall off all kinds of things. As the leader of this company it is up to Thorin to ensure his safety (no matter what he told Gandalf).

There is also the fact that he finally knows what the lingering gazes mean. He did not notice it before, but now it is clear to him that Bilbo is staring at their beards with a strange kind of awe in his eyes (not unlike the one he expressed when they arrived at Rivendell).

Bilbo will glance at whatever dwarf is next to him when they speak, watching their lips, his eyes raking their beard and moustache; taking in every detail and possibly noticing every alteration that has happened since he last looked.

\---

Thorin was not always a man who valued solitude, but having spent so much time around humans and other creatures he has grown to value the little free-time he gets. While many of the dwarves will huddle together by the fire, singing their songs and telling their tales, he will watch by afar, and while the others braid their hair or style their beards, he will seek the company of no-one when shaving. Cutting your beard short is not a common practice among their kin, but the others understand his need to honor the past.

No one has questioned his decision for decades, and so he is surprised to find the hesitation within himself. It is late and the others are settling down not far away. The stream is small and the water cold, not nearly enough to bathe or wash equipment in, but sufficient to refill their supplies. He is staring at the sharp knife in his hand, and he is _hesitating_.

The stream is like a quiet song, echoing in the dark forest around him. Listening to nothing but the purling water he takes a few deep breaths, looking up at the starlit sky through the tree crowns, while trying not to get pulled into memories of what once was. They will all – even the brightest ones – eventually lead to a dark and nightmarish place.

“Uhm.”

_Hobbits can pass unseen by most if they chose…_

Gandlaf’s words echo through his mind, this time less sly and more like a warning. Thorin turns towards Bilbo, determined to chastise him for spying until he notices the pile of dishware in the hobbit’s hands.

“I did not mean to bother.” Bilbo clears his throat before speaking, swaying from side to side while trying to balance all the plates. “It is such a bother to do this kind of thing in the morning, might as well get it over and done with. I can do this… somewhere else.”

Thorin raises his eyebrows at that, not sure if he is amused or annoyed with the halfling’s manners. “You obviously cannot.”

The determination leaves Bilbo’s shoulders, making him sway even more precariously. “Yes. Yes it would be hard cleaning these without water, on second thought. I am not yet dwarf enough to wash things by simply using my tongue.”

It is not the comment about dwarves cleaning things with their mouth that stun Thorin to silence, no; it is definitely the “yet”, said easily and without a moment of hesitation. Bilbo seems to notice something change in Thorin’s posture as he scrambles closer, slipping dangerously on the uneven ground.

“I did not mean that you clean yourself like animals. I simply took notice of your idea of washing dishes when you were visiting.”

And Thorin cannot help but to smile slightly at that, because he may not have been around for the party, but he can imagine how the company spent their time. There is a twinge of curiosity then, as he wonders whether or not he will have to scold Fíli or Kíli for cleaning the halfling’s dishes by licking them, but he cannot bring himself to ask. Instead he simply nods at the steam.

“You are not a bother.”

Bilbo seems immensely relieved, and once he has set the dishes by the stream he rolls his shoulders and sighs happily. It has been a long time since Thorin saw someone so overjoyed at the prospect of cleaning dirty plates.

After contemplating the halfling’s behavior for a moment he once again focuses on the knife in his hand. It is not a challenging task and it will not take much time. He simply needs to trim the beard a little, only to make sure it does not get too long. They will soon be heading into dangerous territory, and he does not know when the next opportunity to do this in peace will present itself.

He barely has the chance to think of peace before the halfling slams the dishes down against the rock with enough force to make Thorin look at him. Judging by Bilbo’s startled expression it was not his intention, but simply another sign of his slightly clumsy nature.

He is staring at the short blade, his gaze wandering from its edge to Thorin’s chin and back again. “Are you going to shave?” He sounds bewildered, as if he did not believe what Kíli told him earlier.

“I am. But you already knew that.” Bilbo looks both surprised and a little bit suspicious, but before he is able to ask any questions Thorin decides to elaborate. “I heard your conversation with Kíli, and I know you were told about my decision.”

The dishes lie completely forgotten in the stream as Bilbo stares at him, expression like he has been caught stealing the most precious gem and his arms raised in some kind of halted gesture. “I did not mean to pry. I was just…”

“It is impossible to get to know a culture or a people without asking questions.” Thorin lowers his head in what might appear as a slight bow, but more than anything he wishes to hide his smile. “But if you have personal questions it might be a wise decision to bring them to the people they concern.”

Bilbo does not reply, but when Thorin looks at him again he finds the hobbit nodding in agreement. Deciding that the conversation is likely over he is about to continue with the shaving, but is once again interrupted.

“Hobbits do not have beards. Not like you. I have never had one, and as far as I can tell I never will for as long as I live. It is not my choice, and I have never…” He blurts it out - nearly choking on the final words – while looking as if he is regretting every single word instantly.

Thorin is not sure what he is supposed to say, and ends up surprising both the halfling and himself by offering the knife. “Since it is so fascinating to you I can see no harm in letting you trim it.”

It is the first time since they left the Shire that he has seen Bilbo being absolutely speechless. Much like when he was told about the risks of the mission he now stands gaping, his mouth moving slightly as if he is attempting to speak but failing horribly.

“You would… would you really?” And there is definitely a risk that they will end up with the hobbit blabbering like this all night, so Thorin throws him the knife – hiding his relief when Bilbo manages to catch it without hurting himself – and proceeds to glare at him.

He is sitting on a mossy rock, barely big enough for him alone, and there is no room for Bilbo. The hobbit ends up kneeling in front of him, having to look up to catch Thorin’s eye.

His movements are hesitant and his touch light, but there is no hiding the amazement in his eyes as his fingertips brush along Thorin’s chin.

“I did not expect it to be so thick.” There is something vague about his voice, as if he is not entirely aware of speaking the words. Both excitement and curiosity grace his features while he gently continues to explore the strands, as if memorizing every curl and the texture of it. “Nor did I think it would be soft.”

Stopping his movements he takes a deep breath, and then he finally raises the knife, watching intently as he makes the first cut.

It is a slow process and Thorin cannot bring himself to look anywhere but at the halfling. They are sitting very close; every once in a while he can feel Bilbo’s breath ghosting across his skin as a distant warmth on his knuckles or a shocking tingle against his neck. After every cut there are fingers replacing the cold blade, making sure the hair has not been cut too short. Shaving has always been something painful, a way to remember the past and a routine to hold on to. It has always been something that needed to be done. Never before has he thought of it as pleasurable.

There is something very calming about the repetitive touches, and he feels himself relaxing a little, enjoying the sight of Bilbo working with such dedication; a focus in his eyes as if he is crafting the finest metal. Thorin cannot help but wonder if the hobbit would find joy in the mines and the treasures hidden within the mountain. The hands caressing his face so softly might not be fit for crafting weapon or armor, yet there is an understanding hidden in every touch; he can imagine Bilbo creating the most delicate jewelry with those hands.

Bilbo puts the knife down and then proceeds to gasp in a both alarming and amusing way.

“I may have cut it too short.” He is staring at Thorin, his expression unreadable, except for his eyes being uncharacteristically wide and his breath coming a little quicker than usual.

They remain quiet for a moment, Bilbo’s gaze focusing on his lips one second, only to meet his eyes the next. Thorin tries not to glare, and some of the tension eases out of the hobbit’s shoulders.

He has never had a particular length in mind when shaving and he can still feel the rough hair as he licks his upper lip; Bilbo has done a good job. Technically, this should not be extraordinary. Dwarves care about their beards and will often assist each other, but the fact is that Bilbo is not a dwarf. There is a tension between them – not an unpleasant one – and Thorin finds himself acting on it rather than ignoring it.

“I grow fast.” He expects the implication of his words to go unnoticed, as the hobbit have always seemed to him as a quite innocent creature, but Bilbo actually huffs out a laugh in response.

“I do not doubt that.”

Bilbo’s smile is almost sly as he reaches up again, fingertips against the dark hairs and dangerously close to Thorin’s lips. He moves quickly, placing a dry kiss at the corner of Thorin’s mouth and leaning back as if to observe the reaction.

When Thorin simply stares at him in silence he sighs and leans back a little further, yet his eyes remain steady and unafraid. It is a strange look on a creature such as a halfling, accompanied by the ridiculous curly hair and smooth skin, and Thorin cannot help but to smile.

“Perhaps, one day, I will be able to show you hobbit traditions in return.” Bilbo’s voice is quiet and seems tinged with regret. There was a time when Thorin knew how to speak of emotion and comfort, but those days are since long gone. He does not know how to speak of lost homes with anything but bitterness and regret.

He stands up, intending to return to the camp immediately, but instead he finds himself stopping to glance at the knife, and then at Bilbo. “If you wish, you can keep it. I would not mind if you assisted me in the future.”

The hobbit seems utterly speechless at first, but as he picks the knife up and washes it in the stream there is a pleased smile on his lips. Thorin remains by his side a moment longer, and it is not until Bilbo looks up at him and says “I would be delighted” that he stalks back to the camp.

As he lies down that night he finds himself looking forward to the next shave, and he smirks knowing it will be soon. Despite it sounding like nothing more than a crude joke, he was telling the truth; he _does_ grow fast.

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes I write short things on [tumblr](http://comediakaidanovsky.tumblr.com/) as well (but mostly I just cry about fictional characters).


End file.
